With the Help of a Helix

[Calico QueenP]

Chapter 1: Newspaper Articles

“POTTER! SHUT UP THAT BLOODY OWL! SOME PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP IN THIS HOUSE!” Uncle Vernon’s voice resonated from the hallway outside Harry’s room. Well, it wasn’t exactly Harry’s room. It was Dudley’s, Harry’s whale-like cousin, old smaller room, which had accumulated an assortment of destroyed, once-expensive computers, flying planes, and various other past gifts for the Dursleys’ angelic son. At that very moment, a dark-haired, teenage boy, with a lean frame and a pair of glasses, which had been mended by tape, switched off his luminous flashlight and shoved a pile of parchment and two books, whose covers seemed to be moving somehow, under his feeble sheets. Here he was again, back in his Aunt and Uncle’s house against his will for the summer, wishing he could just go back to school. Yeah, that’s right. School. Harry was probably one of the few people who actually ENJOYED going to school. He’d been back at this nightmare of a home for nearly a month. To be back in the wizarding world, where broomsticks flew, pictures talked, unicorns existed, and goblins ran the bank, would be a whole lot more exciting than staying in the dull muggle world, with his equally entertaining relatives. Harry stood up from his bed and rushed to Hedwig’s cage, the usual snowy white owl occupying it (though not nearly as composed as usual, seeing as there was an undersized mass of grayish-brown feathers squawking maniacally and blurring its image as it fluttered around).
“Pig! Shut up, you ignorant twit!” Harry growled, attempting to keep his voice down as he attempted to snatch the manic owl and retrieve the piece of parchment rolled around its leg. Harry, after many desperate attempts and hearing Uncle Vernon mutter some nonsense words outside his door as Hedwig continued to shriek, snatched the hyperactive bird and tore the letter from his best friend off of its leg.
“POTTER!” Harry slammed his trunk top shut and bounded into his bed as the door crashed open. “Get up, BOY!” The light switched on and Harry squinted an eye open to find his overweight uncle with bags under his eyes and a bright tomato color plastered on his face, his absence of neck very apparent in his high collared cotton robe. Harry let out a blatant yawn and stretched his arms out in attempt to look weary. “Don’t play games with me, boy. Your blasted bird has been screeching all night and you haven’t displayed any control over the horrible animal. I suppose a nice trip to the butchery shop and I’m sure it’d make a delightful entree,” Uncle Vernon growled as he stampeded across the room as best as he could (the room’s cleanliness had been completely ignored the past month and a half Harry had been home). He yanked the howling owl‘s cage off its regular spot on his end table.
“Uncle Vernon! What’re you-” Harry started furiously before his uncle suddenly stopped in the middle of the room and tilted his head to the side, listening for something. A small banging noise was coming from inside Harry’s trunk.
“What’s that noise?” He growled curiously, his eyes darting back and forth from Harry to the thunderous trunk.
“What noise?” Harry asked, attempting to disguise the knowing attitude he was feeling. Uncle Vernon took a step towards the trunk and laid a pudgy hand on the gold latch.
“You don’t want to open that,” Harry said quickly, suddenly sitting on the trunk’s lid, feeling the owl’s crashes into the roof on his legs.
“Get up, Boy! Why wouldn’t I want to open the blasted box?” Uncle Vernon growled menacingly, as if Harry was challenging his authority.
“It’s- er- my friend’s brothers’. They sent it to me as an early birthday present! They own a joke shop, you know. They’re the ones who made Dudley’s tongue swell...” Harry lied, a smile spreading across his face for once in the past month and a half as his uncle turned a bleached shade of pale.
His hand retreated from the trunk and he stuttered, “Well, k-keep it in there. I’m taking this blasted creature and putting it in the basement, where it won’t bother the rest of us...And I’m LOCKING it up, so don’t even bother trying to save it...” he snarled, slamming the door behind him, not even giving Harry a chance to react. There was a small snap and the n the door was locked.
“NO!” Harry shrieked as he kicked his door violently. Why did everything happen to HIM? His parents being murdered, an evil wizard after him, having to live with his muggle relatives, his godfather, the only person he was ever close to, murdered just a month and a half ago! Sirius was his only true family, and Harry had only gotten close to him the past two years. But then Bellatrix Lestrange had gone along and MURDERED him, a malevolent, arrogant supporter of the one who was supposed to murder Harry had MURDERED his only family member, the only person who somewhat resembled a father figure in Harry’s life. And it was all Harry’s fault. If he hadn’t been so stupid, he never would have believed for one second that Sirius was really trapped in the Department of Mysteries, a section of the Ministry of Magic in which the unexplained events were kept.
And this prophecy Harry had learned only right before he left school explaining why Voldemort had manipulated him was what was driving him almost as mad as Sirius’s death. “THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES...BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES...AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE THE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT...AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES.... THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES....” Was what the prophecy read when Dumbledore had recited it after the incident. So if it really was Harry...but why him? Well that’s quite obvious, nagged a voice at the back of his mind, You were born at the end of June, your parents escaped Voldemort three times, and that scar on your forehead is proof of him marking you as his equal. But that meant that Harry possessed a power that could overpower one of the greatest, darkest wizards of all time. Harry, a gawky sixth year that was thrown into complete exile over the summer, was supposed to defeat Voldemort. But what if it wasn’t Harry? Neville had been the only other option for the greatest wizard...Neville. Neville, an unfortunate wizard in Gryffindor with Harry, seemed to have even less a chance than Harry...
A banging noise resonated, making Harry jump a mile.
“Pig!” Harry yelped, forgetting about the flying mass of disaster. He yanked open the trunk and grabbed at the bird before jerked the letter off its leg.

Dear Harry,

It’s Mrs. Weasley. I’ve just written to tell you that it isn’t your fault for Sirius’s passing. I realize this is a very delicate subject and you aren’t responsible, so I hope you realize this. Ronald told me that you’ve been extremely miserable and completely dark, though I suppose he wouldn’t want me telling you that he told me...He and the rest of our household are concerned about you. Sirius will never be gone, no matter how long he has seemed to be absent.

Love,
Molly Weasley
Not Harry’s fault? That’s the exact opposite of what Harry had been thinking. It was his fault. He had been completely moronic in believing his enemy that Sirius was trapped in the Department of Mysteries. If he had listened to Hermione and believed that it might have been false and his godfather never would have to come in rescue him once more.
Harry scribbled across a spare piece of parchment from Harry’s holiday homework and snatched Pig in one swift, unexpected stroke.
“I want you to get this to Ron as soon as possible, hear me?”
He took one last look at the letter.

Ron:

GET ME OUT OF HERE! My uncle’s just locked up my owl for hooting when your owl came barreling into her cage! MY ONLY SOURCE OF WANTED SOCIAL CONTACT HAS JUST BEEN TORN AWAY FROM ME AND I WANT TO GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE BEFORE I COMMIT SUICIDE DUE TO LACK OF.... EVERYTHING!!! WHAT’S WORSE, DUDLEY SEEMED TO HAVE MADE QUITE A FEW MORE FRIENDS OVER THE YEAR-
Harry rubbed at the bruises on his left temple and arm.

-SO MY LIFE’S PROBABLY FIVE BILLION TIMES WORSE THAN LAST YEAR! Write me back.

-Harry


Harry furiously threw the bird out of the miniscule window, where it tumbling towards the ground before spreading its wings and flying unsteadily out towards the full moon up above.
Just perfect for Mrs. Weasley to bring up Sirius, Harry thought, Let’s make my mood just a little bit worse... How am I going to get my bird back? I can’t use magic again; I’d be expelled, knowing my previous infractions...
Harry had not only blown up his satanic, bulldog-loving Aunt Marge (He was forced to call her “Auntie” even though he was in no way directly related to her...), but had warded a whole pack of dementors (The lifeless guards of the wizard prison, Azkaban) away from his muggle street, and had been accused of casting a Hover charm on a cake and dropped it on Mrs. Mason’s head.
He pulled out the rest of his homework (which was about the effects of the Puddlefoot/ Ganelgook War in 534) and attempted to concentrate on how the goblin troops attacked the centaur population in Bulgaria, though his mind was once again roaming about the past events.
When light had started to peek out from behind an extremely long line of identical houses with identical flowerbeds and identical parched summer grass, Harry finally gave up and set his quill down agitatedly. He flopped on his back and grabbed at the thin pillow as he started to trace the lines of his sterile white ceiling. He felt himself drifting off to an unstable sleep, only to be awakening by the tapping of another annoying owl, causing Harry to jump awake and swear blatantly.
“Bloody owl...” he growled as he shifted through his trunk and pulled out two tiny, bronze colored coins. He grumpily rubbed his eyes and stuffed the coins in the owl’s pocket and picked up the newspaper titled the Daily Prophet, which he had just purchased. The owl let out a hoot and flew back out into the pastel horizon as Harry switched on his lamplight and glimpsed at the front page.

AMELIA BONES: NEW MINISTER OF MAGIC!
First Woman Minister in 156 Years!

Amelia Bones, once the Director of our Judicial Branch, is to replace Cornelius Fudge as Minister of Magic today! Because our previous minister had withheld information about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named returning in full power, he has been dismissed from his position and is to appear in court July 29th to determine his sentence, along with all those who have been associated with this plan. The following are to arrive in court: Cornelius Fudge, Dorothea? Umbridge, Percy Weasley, Joshua Appleton, Leonard Smarklewyk, and Ignatius Quiggleby. Amelia Bones’s official inauguration speech will be at the Ministry at five o’clock in the afternoon today, where she will reveal a few of her plans on how to shape up our jeopardized wizarding world.
AMELIA BONES? IS THE WORLD ACTUALLY DOING SOMETHING TO MAKE ME HAPPY? BUT WHY NOW? WHY MAKE ME HAPPY NOW? WHY NOT MAKE ME MISERABLE FOR THE REST OF THE SUMMER?! Wait- did that list include Ron’s brother? Harry shouted inside his head so he didn’t wake up the entire house once more and find himself locked back in the cupboard under the stairs. This news had ignited a tiny spark of ecstasy inside Harry. Harry opened the page.

DEATH EATERS NAMED BY THE VERY HARRY POTTER!
The Accused from the Night in the Department of Mysteries

The following are all the names Harry Potter, fifth time hero against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, mentioned in our interview from two days ago:

Bellatrix Lestrange, Augustus Rookwood, and Antonin Dolohov. The listed above are to be searched across England until found, whereupon they will be thrown into Azkaban.
“WHAT?!?!? WHAT ABOUT MALFOY?!?! I KNEW THEY COULDN’T MAKE ME HAPPY FOR MORE THAN FIVE MINUTES!! I LISTED HIM IN THAT INTERVIEW AND THEY REFUSE TO INCLUDE HIM IN THE LIST?!?!?!? WELL, WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM!?!? IS HE PARDONED, OR SOMETHING?!?!?” Harry bellowed at the top of his lungs and threw the paper furiously on his bed. He felt himself exploding with rage and heard himself swear deafeningly.
“NO NEED TO YELL, BOY!! EVERYONE’S ALREADY UP, SO THERE’S NO POINT IN TRYING TO WAKE US UP IN THE EARLY MORNING, SEEING AS YOUR OWL DID THAT FOR US! GET DOWN HERE AND MAKE BREAKFAST!!!!” Aunt Petunia’s shrill voice called from the bottom of the stairs, causing Harry to shudder and cover his ears. He flopped onto his bed, as if he hadn’t heard any of it. 5 minutes later...
“POTTER!!! IF YOU WANT TO EAT TODAY, COME DOWN HERE AND COOK!” Harry’s aunt shrieked, causing Harry to become even more irritated.
“IF I WANT TO EAT TODAY, MAYBE I SHOULD LEAVE BECAUSE I SURE AS HELL WON’T GET MUCH TO EAT HERE!!!!” Harry shouted back furiously and threw his enormous old potions book at the door in fury.
Silence. Footsteps coming up to the stairs. The door crashed open with a deafening bang and Aunt Petunia stood, white and annoyed.
“What- did you say to me, boy?” She growled, attempting to keep her voice low and under control when Dudley, in all his pudgy glory, stops by Harry’s door, its doorframe a few sizes smaller than needed for him to fit through.
“Someone’s in trouble...” He smirked, attempting to tie the rope of his robe around his waist.
“GET THE HELL, OUT OF HERE, DUDLEY!” Harry bellowed furiously at him, very red in the face.
“DON’T TALK TO MY LITTLE DUDDLYKINS LIKE THAT!” Aunt Petunia screeched back at him, her false placid attitude shattering as Dudley let out a low chuckle.
“I WOULDN’T BE LAUGHING, ICKLE LITTLE DUDDLYKINS!” Harry yelled.
“Don’t make me go get your UNCLE up here, boy. If you don’t get down stairs and start making breakfast, you can say goodbye to those schoolbooks and that blasted bird of yours,” Aunt Petunia snarled, causing Harry to throw an evil glare to her and furiously stand up and stampede out of the room.
When Harry staggered into the kitchen ten seconds later, Uncle Vernon was sitting with bags under his eyes at the table and was reading the morning paper. Harry glanced at the title.